"Dormammu, don't even think about it! As long as I don't step into your Dark Dimension, you'll never enter our world!"
This crisis was no longer confined to a fragile plane like Earth.
Too many races coveted this realm—and with the awakening of the World Serpent, chaos spread through every dimension.
Monsters and demons emerged from every shadow. Even the Underworld grew restless.
The Heavenly Kingdom—closest to the earthly realm—had already dispatched its legions to guard the borders, replacing the Banquet Army to defend against dimensional invasions.
The angels, once devoted to the light, had no other path left.
Their God was dead.
Now under Hades' command, they could at least earn His protection.
After all, angels were pure elemental spirits—the kind of souls most desired by the gods of the Pure Land.
Yet the laws of Earth were unraveling.
At Kamar-Taj, the Ancient One fought desperately, her power straining against Dormammu's growing might.
"Ancient One! Do you truly believe that god can stop me from descending into your world?" Dormammu's voice thundered through the skies. "He is already entangled—Mephisto and the ruler of the Crimson Cosmos keep him occupied! Soon, I will tear open this barrier and merge your realm into my Dark Dimension!"
The sheer pressure of Dormammu's will crushed against her like a tidal wave.
But the Ancient One, bearer of countless Sorcerer Supreme legacies, refused to yield.
"I don't care what's happening in the Crimson Cosmos!" she roared back.
"I don't care what schemes that old devil plots!"
"As long as I still draw breath on this planet—you will never invade this world!"
Her robes billowed in the storm of power. Mana blazed from her body, splitting the sky.
The Sorcerer Supreme—radiant and unyielding.
Meanwhile, deep within the serpent's vast belly, a black silhouette was being enveloped by waves of pure cosmic energy.
Minos had no idea what was happening outside.
He could only feel it—his entire being transforming.
This change… was beyond the reach of even one of the Three Judges of the Underworld.
It was the realm of the Eighth Sense—
the level of the Cosmos closest to the divine!
Underworld fighters were unlike Saints. Saints cultivated their Cosmos to harmonize with their sacred Cloths.
But a Specter's strength flowed from their Surplice—their Dark Cloth.
The might of the Surplice determined the might of the warrior.
Since the age of the gods, the hierarchy had never changed.
The Three Judges stood supreme, their power unmatched by any other Specter.
But this time… Lord Hades had commanded all Underworld warriors to study the Saints' methods of Cosmos cultivation—including the Three Judges themselves.
Among them, Rhadamanthys was the first to reach the Seventh Sense, followed by Aiakos.
Yet even Rhadamanthys had never touched the threshold of the Eighth.
Now he guarded the gates of the Underworld, ensuring no intruder dared trespass.
Aiakos trained endlessly, using the infernal realm itself as his proving ground.
With Lord Hades personally descending into Hell, even Aiakos was on the verge of awakening the Eighth Sense.
In the hierarchy of the Cosmos:
The first through fifth senses governed sight, hearing, smell, taste, and touch.
The sixth sense lay dormant in all beings—intuition, the subconscious mind—
the first step toward awakening one's inner Cosmos.
But true mastery began with the Seventh Sense—the consciousness of the soul itself.
Few mortals ever perceived it. Only those who transcended their limits could reach that realm.
The Seventh Sense marked the awakening of the Golden Saints.
Minos had already attained that level.
But beyond it lay a boundary—
the limit of human potential.
The Eighth Sense, or Alaya Consciousness.
To awaken it was to stand at the edge of godhood—
to perceive the very fabric of existence.
Those who attained it could feel the pulse of creation, see the roots of the world, and comprehend the laws of time and space.
They could hear the song of the forest, the whisper of the wind, the flow of the river—
even converse with gods and spirits.
Their souls became one with the universe itself.
And now—Minos had entered that state.
It was as if all power had dissolved from his body.
No trace of the Cosmos remained—yet he could sense every law of its operation perfectly.
His body and Cosmos had become one.
Then—
Thump… Thump… Thump…
His heartbeat resounded, deep and powerful.
Minos, lying dormant within the serpent's belly, opened his eyes.
The divine blood coating his body evaporated—its power now spent, fully absorbed.
In his eyes shimmered starlight—
and within that light, countless threads of energy connecting the stars themselves.
Before, his Star Marionette Strings could barely restrain Jörmungandr.
Now…
He breathed once—steady and calm.
Stretching out his arm, the broken pieces of his body reformed, whole once more.
His Surplice gleamed with a strange, otherworldly radiance.
"The stars…"
"Marionette Strings!"
From his awakened Cosmos burst countless lines of purple-black light, stretching across hundreds of thousands of light-years.
Judgment descended.
The serpent's abdomen was instantly torn apart—ripped to shreds by the invisible threads!
A dark figure emerged from the gaping wound.
"Lord Minos!!"
The Underworld warriors cried out in awe.
The power radiating from him silenced them all.
The darkness of his Surplice was illuminated by a Cosmos that surpassed the Seventh Sense entirely—
It had reached the pinnacle of human potential.
This was the Eighth Sense Cosmos—
the power closest to that of the gods.
(End of Chapter)
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